


New Beginnings

by shenkleys



Series: OT3: Alliance Spectre Trinity [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenkleys/pseuds/shenkleys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley considers her new position on the Normandy, as well as a newly appointed Spectre Shepard</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>~Light, booted footsteps approaching her six tears Ashley away from her weapons again, distracted from spiralling thoughts, unable to resist the spirited aura of the person who literally pulled her ass out of fire, sparking along booted tracks forged out of loss and blood as they hurtle through a galaxy threatening to dwindle away to the shits~</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

 

The weapons arranged neatly on the bench gives Ashley a sense of calm; sleek and polished, spread out on a semi-clean canvas, allowing her to concentrate on the heavy scent of gun oil and dirty rags which she has grown accustomed to adore from her years of service and training, invoking a familiar presence of comfort. If she concentrates hard enough, she can drown out the faint mumbling of Shepard talking to Garrus behind her, enough to drown out the ex-C-Sec officer’s smooth, clanging voice, too, dual or triple tones fading away as the guns take priority over them inside Ashley’s head the way she wants it to be. Her fingers are moving speedily over the omni-board, cataloguing the _Normandy_ ’s inventories as they sail towards Feros because Shepard had taken Anderson’s advice, nightmares of the past few days replaying in her mind that she cannot control, shrieking within her eardrums and like nails scratching over a blackboard, skinning her slowly from the insides. Grating, metallic clicking of the geth, her whole squad dying terribly, so _fast_ in ways she cannot comprehend, flinging grenades blindly over her shoulder as they all raced for half-assed cover when they were being shot at, completely taken by surprise and mowed down so easily. Ashley revisits Shepard being pulled in by the beacon; body and limbs stretched in mid-air, twitching and gagging sounds filtering through to her helmet like the Commander was being strangled by some unseen force, eyes wide and popping, going insane, before being flung harshly backwards onto the deck, feared dead to the galaxy. She revisits Alenko scrambling on his palms and knees to get to her, voice shaky as he tried to help, pacing worriedly in the med-bay before he was kicked out by Captain Anderson for whatever private whisperings the two had to talk about. Guilt ridden expression permanently fixed to the Staff Lieutenant’s face as sad, brown eyes never seemed to leave the door Shepard was shut behind, grinding teeth and anguishing over his conceived mistake on Eden Prime which ripped at Ashley enough to make her annoyed at him.

The images flash through in her brain, near perfect recollection which the Chief doubts she would forget anytime soon, and Ashley inevitably sneaks a glance at Shepard, her body acting on its own without her permission, trying to take in the Commander’s expression in the gloom from across the cargo bay, dull lighting and distance obscuring the face she wants to see, illogically attached to something she barely knows just because it arrived at the right time to prevent herself from being razed to the ground. Orange light gleams off Garrus’ deep blue armour, unwilling to bend around him to Shepard, while the looming Mako casts shadows on both their faces, black shades flung on features to hide expressions, shielding them from anyone else preening to creep at the casually hanging duo. Shepard is standing upright, shoulders thrown back and feet comfortably apart, holding steady eyes on their new turian friend, just as Ashley holds steady eyes on her new CO, unknown to either of them, watchful in secret, itching to be a part of a conversation she doesn’t even know what about, because her heart is doing tiny cartwheels which doesn’t make any sense to her at all.

The Commander had immediately taken to making the rounds when she had been given the ship, slotting herself easily into dialogue with the new arrivals to their messed up gang, just as she had done post-Eden Prime for Ashley, settling her ill at ease mind with smooth words like she knew just what to say; walking out of the med-bay, looking a little dishevelled and dazed, but speaking to her, ensuring her place on the _Normandy_ , injecting a semblance of support and confidence before striding over to Alenko who was casting a not so subtle eye on them, to put a stop to the Lieutenant’s needless fidgeting in the corner, making it all look so effortless from her end. So much had changed since then ( _the first ever human Spectre, holy shit,_ Ashley is still reeling), but Shepard made sure to check up on everyone. Charging up the atmosphere amongst the crew with a rousing speech, their loyalties already collected within the palm of her hand and lapping at her feet, secure in her leadership and charisma that makes the Chief spin from excitement about getting to work on board with her new crew despite the traumatic events of her recruitment, elated to be actually working in space, where previously she only ever dreamt of being swept away in the endless stars, constantly being told she isn’t good enough for anyone. Slipping and sliding along the slope with aliens on their secret, Alliance prototype ship, with Captain Anderson being shoved out the backdoor because of political bullshit, but it doesn’t dim down the crackling on the _Normandy_ , air kindling and everyone raring to be released from the fancy chains of the Citadel to jump headfirst into the race, pouring forth with enthusiasm.

Light, booted footsteps approaching her six tears Ashley away from her weapons again, distracted from spiralling thoughts, unable to resist the spirited aura of the person who literally pulled her ass out of fire, sparking along booted tracks forged out of loss and blood as they hurtle through a galaxy threatening to dwindle away to the shits. Shepard looks much better than she did for their previous conversation, giving in to Ashley to switch into her professional mode, ‘’Updates, Chief?’’ Ash rattles away the required details and information about their current status, her knowledge of their weapons and important related systems polished up the moment she knew her place on the ship, knowledge which flows out of her mouth because she makes sure to know them like the back of her hand, every fine point drilled into her code confidently. Calculated and applicable, fielding her expertise as Shepard nods along, drinking in every word without interrupting, face serious as she listens, full attention given and accepting Ashley’s role for what she is, a role where she’s respected for her job and skills, instead of being side eyed with contempt the Chief sometimes is prone to receiving. It’s like second nature, fitting in and filling up the missing plug, and Shepard regards her silently when Ash falters a little, stumbling in blindness, bitter about her meaninglessly dead crew, and the Commander gruffly states, ‘’You don’t have to beat yourself up over it,’’ carefully voicing about Eden Prime again, not letting go, ‘’There was nothing you could do.’’ Cutting straight to the heart of the matter, refusing to allow Ashley to mentally kick herself for something which Shepard clearly informs her isn’t her fault, knowing exactly what’s making the Chief somber when she recalls memories she isn’t fond of. ‘’Still wish you had gotten there sooner,’’ Ash blurts out before her brain catches up to her mouth, but the Commander isn’t fazed by the brief heated moment of anger Ashley feels for them not being able to save her squad, staring back blankly because she knows there is nothing meant by it, simply waiting for her to get her mind back on track as she lets the barb wash over her without reaction.

There are no deliberate insults, or hurt feelings, because both of them understand emotions slipping away to form biting phrases which carry no real antagonism, no malicious jabs to cause actual harm, only shared body heat from their close proximity that Ashley suddenly realises, doesn’t get how she didn’t take notice of it before, consequently making her shiver, her tired, sunken eyes dipping down to Shepard’s lips before darting back up to catch an oddly amused look. _Oh._ They both hang in limbo, betraying everything and nothing at once that makes the Chief mildly confused, cogs turning within her head as they school their features in sync back to a semblance of professionalism, quickly shifting the conversation back to Saren, the geth, bouncing off random speculations and forgetting the non-worded moment she’s sure the Commander felt as well.

The dark mood over Ashley lifts to a warm glow in her chest instead, especially when she sees Shepard glancing at her new, overpriced shotgun she had splurged on with glee at the Citadel; Spectre requisitions. Beautiful, black finish, comfortably heavy in her hands, and they grin at each other, sharing their mutual love for the methodically placed tools on Ashley’s workbench, whispering their appreciation while simultaneously bemoaning the loss of credits, ‘’I suppose you obviously needed that gun at this stage,’’ Ash jokingly asserts, only for Shepard to raise an eyebrow to retort back, ‘’ _Obviously_ ,’’ shining with barely contained jest, ‘’We’re on a very important mission, Williams.’’ It’s light hearted; content words seeping out as fingers ghost over clean muzzles, prepping modifications with a loving gaze as they both breathe in the strong smell of metal and oil, taking pride in the treatment of their weapons, handling them with the most delicate of expert touches, utmost care given and forming an instant bond where they decide which guns are the best to tear apart geth with. Side glances are stolen at each other, suggestive noises and hums softly pricking through their quiet workings, and Ashley doesn’t want to dwell on or think about it deeply for now because she hasn’t planned for this, feelings running away from her before she can properly understand, much less accept them to get a hold of the situation.

When Shepard finally leaves, it’s with a smile on a sweaty face and hands caked with dirt and grease, playful, dismissive  _‘’Chief’’_  tossed out in _that particular tone_ , the tone which has Ash do an internal double take, wrenching a tug on her own lips as she watches the retreating form of her new Commander, and Ashley feels she is ready. She flips back to her bench, slides a finger slowly down Shepard’s shotgun, gazing at the ridges that jut out roughly, toughness and resilience wrapping around her frame thicker than ever as she thinks that yes, it’s at last a change in her career, and her life, her worth appreciated without irony or disdain, that she’s no longer bound by her mark of dishonour. It’s the very specific change she has been waiting for, and Ashley is sure of her duty, to serve, to _give_ , and to eventually grow beyond what was never expected of her, grasping onto the opportunity given by people who welcome her as an asset with smiling, open arms, and placing their trust on her to be the watchful guardian at backs.

 

-

 


End file.
